The return of Jerry Cantrell's grunge bulldozers stresses the dogged consistency that sustained them after singer Layne Staley's death.
Spread over a 67-minute album, their second with new voice William DuVall, that grinding insistence first impresses, then just grinds. There's an indomitability about their mix of Sabbath vintage and 1990s Seattle scowl, but there are also water-treading workouts which lumber like old wrestlers towards a fate worse than fossilisation.
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